F. Wilson: Dydeetown World

"You're getting to be a real jog, y'know? One of these days you're gonna cut that too close!"

Looked out the rear window. The tyrannosaurus followed all the way to the house and watched us with its hard black eyes until we sank out of its line of sight onto the roof. From there we walked down a short stairway and into the presence of Yokomata herself, seated behind a desk.

She studied us with dark eyes no warmer than her pet carnivore’s. Big woman with a wide yellow face. Looked like a retired sumo wrestler who'd been on a soy-water diet for a while.

"I don't want to take up any more time with this than is necessary," she said in a silky, world-weary voice as she held up two printouts. "I know who you both are: Jean Harlow-c, a Dydeetown girl; and Sigmund Dreyer, a small time- very small time — investigator." She fixed on me. "I want to know what you were doing in Kel Barkham's apartment."

"'Kel Barkham?" the clone said. "That's Kyle Bodine's apartment."

Yokomata glanced at Fourfingers who nodded. "He rented it under that name a few months ago."

Yokomata kept her eyes on Fourfingers. "Ask her why she was in his apartment."

"Looking for him," the clone said before Fourfingers could open his mouth. "He was supposed to meet me Friday night but he never showed up."

"So she hired Dreyer here to find him?" Yokomata said to Fourfingers. "Is she that interested in all her customers?"

"Of course not," the clone replied in a huff, and I knew she was going to say it, but there was no way to stop her. "We're going to be married."

Utter silence in the room for a second or two. Then Rednose cracked — made a choking sound, then burst out laughing. Fourfingers and the driver followed. The clone reddened and set her jaw.

Only Yokomata remained impassive.

Which worried me most of all. Yokomata was interrogating us herself. That meant the whereabouts of Kyle Bodine/Kel Barkham were so important to her that she didn't trust any of her underlings with the job.

As the laughter finally died away, she turned her gaze on me and the knot in my stomach tightened. But I didn't squirm visibly; just stood there.

"And what is it that you've learned since this Dydeetown girl took you on as a client?"

Gave her a casual shrug. "Not too much, other than the fact that your men do sloppy searches — could've hidden a body in the mess they made — and that you're interested in finding this guy, too."

"Nothing more?"

"Only been on it since after lunch. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Yokomata rose from behind her desk and came toward me. She was taller than I'd originally thought.

"You're not good, Mr. Dreyer. The few people who've heard of you say you used to be, but now you're strictly a third-rater living off other eyes' leavings. I wouldn't know what the clones think of you."

"They think he's honest," said the clone.

We both ignored her — Yokomata didn't recognize her presence and I wouldn't allow a clone to speak up for me.

"Over here," Yokomata said, gesturing me toward the wall. "I want to show you something."

The wall cleared as we approached, giving us a broad view of the backyard.

"Nice grass," I said. "Don't suppose you cut it yourself."

"Watch," she said. "It's almost time."

So I watched. Watched the grass, watched the trees and their long shadows sway in the breeze. Was about to turn away when something darted out of the bushes near the house — brown on top, light below, thin legs, graceful neck. Seen pictures of something like that before. A deer. Hornless. A doe.

It zigzagged out into the yard and then froze, remained statue-like for a few heartbeats, then broke into a frenzied dash. But it didn't have a chance. A gray-green juggernaut shot into view, overtook it, and bit its head off.

Heard the clone cry out behind me as twin jets of blood sprayed into the air from the neck stump. The body ran on. For a few steps it looked as if it might just run off without its head. Then the legs buckled and it collapsed to the grass. The tyrannosaurus grasped the front end of the carcass with its jaws and hoisted it free of the ground. A quick jutting move of its head, a convulsive swallow, and the doe was gone.

"Bloaty," I said.

"Makes one think, doesn't it," Yokomata whispered at my shoulder.

"And realize," I said with a slow nod, "that if that deer knew anything, it's not talking now. And never will."

Yokomata was silent a moment, then said, "Come with me."

We all trooped downstairs to another suite of rooms more sparsely furnished than the one above. She directed me to a cushioned recliner.

"Make yourself comfortable. I have some questions I want to ask you."

So I sat-

— and was trapped. Metal cuffs popped out of the fabric and snapped around my wrists and ankles.

In a voice that sounded like she was ordering breakfast Yokomata said, "Give him a dose of Truth."

Panic shot through me and I arched myself away from the chair, trying to break those cuffs. Knew they wouldn't give, but had to try.

"Already told you all I know!" I shouted. "This won't get you any more!"

Yokomata ignored me. She wanted to be sure I'd told her everything. If I could have come up with some other way to convince her- any way — I would have tried it. Anything to avoid a dose of Truth. But my mind was a blank.

"What about the clone?" Rednose said.

Yokomata smiled for the first time. Her voice dripped with disdain.

"Barkham gave her the wrong name and said he was going to marry her."

Enough said.

"What's happening?" the clone said.

Fourfingers popped a drawer out of a wall and pulled a dose gun from it. He came toward me. Off to my right side I heard the clone say: "What are you going to do?"

Didn't want this. More than anything in the world — maybe even death — I didn't want this. But not a damn thing I could do to stop it. Everything I had went into keeping my sphincters from letting go as he casually pressed the end of the barrel against the hollow of my shoulder and pulled the trigger. A phhht! and a sting as the drug shot through my shirt and skin.

And that was that. Slumped in the chair and tried to keep from crumbling. In a very short while everything I knew would be anyone's for the asking.

"Call me when he's ready," Yokomata said as she walked out.

The clone started toward me. "Are you all-?"

Rednose yanked her back by the arm. "Stay away from him!" Touching her seemed to give him an idea. He glanced at Fourfingers. "Isn't this perfect — time to kill and a Dydeetown girl to kill it with."

"Sounds good to me," Fourfingers said.

"I'm not open for business," the clone told them.

Rednose shoved her toward a back room. "You're gonna be."

"I'll tell my owner!" Her voice was shriller.

"Yokomata probably owns your owner!"

The three of them moved out of my field of vision. Didn't bother turning my head to watch them go. Just sat there and sweated and waited. Somewhere in the house the datastream was playing. Then some noise from the back room — sounds of protest, and maybe a meaty slap, a cry of pain. Wasn't really listening. All I could think of was soon they'd come back and start asking me questions, and no matter what they asked- no matter what -I'd tell them the truth.

Eventually, Yokomata returned. She glanced around the empty room and toward the back room with annoyance, then came toward me.

"Your full name?" she said.

The words came out on their own: "Sigmund Chando Merlandry Dreyer."

"Where do you live?"

Gave her my compartment number in Brooklyn followed immediately by my office address in the Verrazano Complex because I sometimes sleep there. Couldn't hold anything back!